Impulse Control Issues
by Adela Lynn
Summary: America is in trouble and his boss has a plan to get him out of it, but it means getting along with Russia. Instead, one heated argument between the pair leads to a trip of old wounds and repressed memories.


Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia! Or Ivan/Russia or Alfred/America!

Warnings: Human names and country names used. Um, Alfred swears a bit in this chapter, and don't expect the swearing to end anytime soon. OC's used (Bosses and States, no cannonXOCs stuff). Fluff and yaoi in later chapters.

Pairings: Russia x America and others, although they will be in the background somewhere…

America sulked farther back into his chair; his eyes nervously flickering from the game on his IPhone to Russia- even though they were supposed to be on better terms, America could not bring himself to trust Russia. Animosity sparked between the pair, even with each of them on opposite sides of the room. Their bosses and a few captains of industry sat in a room close by, discussing some new trade laws or treaties or something like that. America wasn't really paying attention when his boss was talking about it. As he blew his nose as quietly as he could, America wondered if the cops would need to be called again, or, God forbid, the riot police- again.

They sat in a modern style waiting room, the furniture all in gray scale, covered in brushed chrome. Sometimes, when America thought he felt Russia's eyes on him, he would try and look at Russia's reflection in the chrome of the chair next to him. America wouldn't be so damn paranoid about the Commie if he was feeling okay, but this 'recession' was still hitting him hard, and, as fun as it usually was, Alfred just wasn't up to his normal banter with the Russian. He still kept his head up with his hero's pride though.

"Ah," Russia said, "What is wrong comrade? You seem a little off today, Да~?" Russia said, his large purple eyes looking at America with child-like concern.

"I'm just fine! And don't call me comrade, Commie!" Alfred smiled back with his fake ear-to-ear grin.

"Да, then would you please refrain from calling me a Commie, Америка?"

America's boss stepped out of the room and motioned for the pair of nations to follow. Alfred smiled; judging by his boss's smirk, whatever had happened in the room had worked out in America's favor. Although instinct told him not to enter a closed room unarmed with Russia, he wasn't going to chicken out. As they entered a mixed group of Russian and American business leaders left, chatting amicably in both languages. Alfred did a double take, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Russia do the same. '_That's not supposed to happen- they should be arguing and storming off in fits of rage. The police should be breaking the door down.' _He thought.

Russia sank awkwardly into one of the plush black leather armchairs that ran around the low dark oak conference table, and America flopped into one as far away from Russia as possible, but his boss snapped her fingers at him and motioned for him to sit next to Russia. America scowled but sulked over to the chair and jumped over the arm rest into the cushion.

America stared down his boss, she- yes she is a she, get over it- looked evenly at him in a way that reminded him so very much of England. Like he was a child who couldn't handle this all on his own, or would misbehave and cause something bad to happen.

"As you know," America's boss began, "We have been discussing with our respective business leaders and have come up with a new trade and energy agreement. And both Alyosha and I have sent bills to our congresses asking for lowered tariffs between our two countries." America rolled his eyes at his boss's casual use of the Russian's name, and then the realization of what she had just said traveled through Alfred's dense skull.

America and Russia both sat up in their seats mouths open, ready to protest, but were stopped by twin glares from their bosses, and Russia's boss picked up where America's had left off, "From now on, 90% of American oil imports will come from Russia, and several Russian oil companies will be investing in the development of drilling operations in Alaska, Montana and the Gulf. Also, food imports from America to Russia will increase by 20%." America squirmed in his seat, pulling his legs onto the armchair, glairing over the tops of his knees. He could almost hear the 'kols' under Ivan's breath.

Russia and America blinked, while America's boss smiled. "Я знал, что Америка и я должны были находиться на лучших сроках теперь, но это …" Ivan started. For once, America and Russia seemed to be on the same page- this was insane!

"Isn't that like, you know, dangerous?" America said. "Tying ourselves to Russia or any Commie in anyway can only bring pain and misery…"

"America, it's not like we're doing anything that could potentially cause economic dependence or political upset. Plus, I hired three lawyers to double check the documents against U.N. statute, and Russian and American law. We're okay. No offense Alyosha." America's boss said, and Russia's boss shook his head.

"I still don't like this." Russia said the normal childish grin dropped from his face. Many people thought that Russia was like a big child, and he could be, however, there were times when he was intelligent and cunning and mature, more so than many other nations who scoffed at him.

America's boss interrupted Russia, "The measures being taken here should be seen not only as a financial aid to both of our countries, helping inflation in America by stabilizing energy prices and bringing in more revenue to the Russian economy, but also as a security measure. For over a century our countries have tackled most of their international problems with the 'big stick' tactic, but that's just not going to work. We've invested all this money and all this time in the Middle East, and the problem has only grown, not diminished. If we kill a terrorist, he becomes a martyr, and even when we manage to chase a terrorist organization out of a country, America has a long standing history of putting in unpopular governments… which only lead to more instability." Russia's boss and Ivan chuckled, while Alfred looked sour and stuck his lower lip out at his boss. She ignored him.

"The hope is that if the world stops buying Middle Eastern oil, they will fall into an economic crisis, which may push some of the more moderate citizens to revolt. This measure will not hurt some of our enemies, such as Pakistan, but hopefully, if the people choose to put in place their own democratic governments, the ideals will spread." America's boss was looking at the ground with gloomy, conflicted eyes.

"So you two," Russia's boss continued, pointing slowly at Ivan and Alfred, "need to come to terms with our new agreements. The American and Russian governments need to work closely together to stop this new crisis from becoming a World War. You must know that your personal feelings, as Ivan and Alfred, can have an effect on your people, much in the same way that their feelings influence you. Please, both of you work together and get along. Right, Amelia? " Russia's boss said, saying Amelia's name softly, uncomfortable with the familiarity. Ivan nodded at his boss and gave America a not-quite-genuine-but-at-least-not-scary-as-hell smile, to which Alfred glared back.

Seeing this, America's boss spoke up. "Let me put this in terms you understand America. Get over your issues with Russia. Play nice. Become friends. Beat the bad guys. Be the hero. Get yourself out of this financial hellhole that you've dug yourself into." She said, accenting each sentence with a loud, sharp crack of her knuckles, "You're a stubborn pig-headed mule, but for the sake of my sanity and both of our lives can you please try to get along?"

Alfred snorted, "Sure, sure mom and dad I'll get along with brother dear." Ivan raised a pale eyebrow and America's boss ran a hand down her face slowly, then proceeded to stand up and walk toward the door, flicking Alfred's ear as she walked past.

"I'm serious America. Be good." Her eyes flicked to Russia's boss, "I have to go scare Congress into passing that trade bill, sorry that I have to leave so soon Minya." Russia's boss waved her apology off.

"Do not worry; I have work to attend to as well." Russia's boss said, following her out the door. America closed his eyes and rested his forehead on his knees- he could still hear their bosses, mostly his loud boss, chatting as they walked down the hallway.

He heard a small snippet of their conversation, "I've had to start dying my hair and it's only the second year of my first term. See this chunk of hair, all dyed because of America." Russia must have heard America's boss because he chuckled too.

What was he going to do? Alfred remembered so many things about Russia, how he used to look up to him, how close they used to be… all before that stupid revolution of his. They were such good friends before, as much as his isolationist policy would allow, and when Russia turned Communist, it felt like America had been stabbed in the back again. England, France… it didn't matter who Alfred looked up to, they all betrayed him.

But hadn't he given France and England another chance? Weren't they on decent terms now? Well, England was still annoying as all get out and nothing was ever decent with France… and Russia was much worse than they were but still… heroes give second chances, right?. His mind made up, Alfred stretched out and stood up, noticing that Ivan had already left. Oh well, he could deal with him tomorrow. As a reward for not fighting with Russia today, he decided to go get some ice cream, and then, since it was about noon, find a McDonalds.

In the darkened hotel room, three large bags of the infamous Mickey D's sat full of cold greasy food, untouched for so long that nothing could be done to make them edible, sat on a nightstand. An alarm clock next to the bags flashed a soft orange light through a pair of dirty glasses onto a pale and drawn face. America rolled over, further away from the light, drawing his knees closer to his chest as another violent tremor shot through his stomach.

He had never been this sick before. The 1760's were bad, but at least he had a strong Southern economy then… and the Great Depression hit him hard, but then WWII sprang up and pulled him out of it. Right now, America felt like he was in a worse position than both of those times- this time, he felt on the verge of economic collapse.

For years he had been fighting this and only getting worse and worse, each new economic plan was like a Band-Aid, they just covered up the problem while ignoring _why_ America was having issues. His new boss had promised to make him better, but so far he had only been getting worse, and America was tired of having to hide it from the rest of the world. Each meeting he would go in with his usual smile and not let anyone on to how bad he felt. At least now he had an excuse to fall asleep during world meetings when Iggy talked.

And usually, he was pretty good at hiding how bad off he was, like today; he figured that Russia didn't notice how poorly he was doing. But after getting McDonalds a huge wave of nausea and sickness had crashed over him, like the sickness was punishing him for trying to hide it, and he found that he didn't want to eat. That was bad, because he always wanted to eat.

America stretched out on his stomach on the disheveled sheets and hoped that his boss's new plan would help, because he didn't think that he could last much longer. At this time, if it meant getting better, Alfred would make nice with Ivan.

Russia sat on his hotel bed, reading through the new trade agreements and drinking. He sighed; he couldn't even begin to understand why his boss was going through all the trouble to help America. Yes, there were the benefits to the Russian economy, but there were other, better countries that they could form economic ties with.

Ivan gritted his teeth as he thought of the Cold War. How could an incompetent idiot like America ever have beaten him? He knew that they were supposed to be long past this, but Ivan doubted that between Alfred and himself, that it would never _not_ be an issue.

Plus, letting America fall into economic ruin might be the only thing that could knock him off of his high pedestal. To Ivan, there wasn't much about American society that seemed to be redeemable anymore, he whole country was just falling apart. Economically, socially, the government rarely cooperates with itself and is often split, the people don't get along with one another, under that smiling mask, America was really falling to pieces.

_"And you're one to talk?"_ An annoying, traitorous part of Russia said, and Ivan smashed the thought into little pieces as he leaned back against the headboard which groaned against his weight. He took a final, long drink from his vodka bottle, set it gingerly on the nightstand, flicked off the light, and Ivan rolled over and closed his eyes.

The next day, to celebrate the newfound agreement between the Russian and American businessmen, and the fact that for the first time in years, no security guards or riot police had to be called to break up the meeting, America's boss treated them all to lunch at a upscale restaurant downtown. The restaurant was a sharp contrast to the meeting room yesterday, covered in soft warm colors and light woods, and instead of harsh fluorescent lights, natural light filtered in through two large window panes that occupied the entirety of the wall facing the street.

The restaurant was small and out of the way, so there weren't many people there besides the group of Russians and Americans, both of the bosses' security details, and a few other patrons. There were far too many people in the group for them all to fit at one table, even the largest one in the restaurant. Even setting the smaller tables sided by side didn't accommodate all of them, so the bosses had placed Russia and America a little off to the side, at their own table. America felt slighted, and Russia didn't care, but both of the countries held their usual smiles, even though it wasn't how they felt.

Food was ordered, and even though the restaurant didn't even have them, Alfred had somehow coerced the kitchen staff into making him a hamburger. At least it didn't seem as greasy as that horrid McDonalds that he normally ate.

"You seem to be inhaling your food with a little more vigor today than normal, Да Америка?" Ivan said dryly.

"Shut up." Alfred said around a mouthful of food. "I's not m' fault," He swallowed, "I'm starving, I didn't have dinner last night and I only had a couple of doughnuts and Starbucks for breakfast."

"бедный Америка."

"Speak English dammit! You're in America!" Alfred caught a quick glare from his boss and said in a much quieter tone, "Your stupid language is… stupid." Even Alfred cringed at that lame comeback.

Russia raised an amused eyebrow at America who had gloomily started stuffing his face again. "Honestly _Alfred_, I find this entire situation to be highly amusing. Because whether or not you like to admit it Alfred, your people are looking overseas for help. You are no longer the great impenetrable nation, but you haven't been since you got these on 9/11," Ivan pointed to Alfred's chest and Alfred flinched pulling an arm unconsciously to his chest, "Or even farther back to world war two…" Ivan gave Alfred his best creepy smile, knowing just how much the old scars hurt. Boy was this fun~!

"Well at least I can hold a government together for seventy odd years… and I didn't bankrupt myself over a bold faced _lie_. Space lasers… yeah, you actually believed that! And they love to call me dumb. Plus I didn't kill my own people." Alfred's smile was now predatory, knowing that he had hit a dangerous and painful nerve with that last sentence.

"I do not see what's worth saving." Ivan said, voice blunt with unchecked malice but still quiet, hands clenched under the table in anger, "Obviously, your society is severely flawed, your economic policies have very obviously failed, your government tears itself apart on a regular basis, and your people are loud, obnoxious, whiny and have completely lost the ability to think for themselves. Many are selfish and moronic, partially due to your atrocious schooling system…"

"Stop. Talking. About. My. People." Alfred growled loudly, standing up and slamming his hands down on the table, ignoring the glares coming from both of their bosses. They knew they were making a scene, but both were two angry to care. "My people aren't…" He started, before huge coughs racked his body and forced him to sit down. Patrons across the restaurant looked over and America's boss got up to see what was wrong. However she was stopped by Russia's boss's hand on her wrist. She looked down at him and he said something inaudibly in Russian, and then she sat back down, looking at Alfred worriedly.

The coughing fit had accomplished what decades of peace between the two countries hadn't, the auras of fury coming from the two nations dissipated, and a full minute after the coughing fit had ended and the group of businessmen next to them had picked their conversations back up, Alfred spoke up again, looking at a calmly eating Russia. "Is there really nothing that you think is worth saving about America?" He croaked out, his voice raw from the coughing.

Russia shrugged eyes dispassionate and level at America, "Not really, you must realize that your land and people would be in much better hands in a rational government that doesn't constantly overspend and fight."

"Meaning you? Because you don't exactly have the best track record in the sanity department."

"I never said that I wanted to take over your people. They are far too annoying. Do not put words in my mouth."

There was a pause as Alfred looked down at his almost-eaten lunch. "…Let me find something." He mumbled.

"Find what, Америка?" Ivan said, folding his hands under his chin and smiling like a child at America again.

"Let me find something that you will love about America, something worth preserving. Ignoring politics and the economy and the past and Hollywood and the media, I will find something that you will love. Something that will disappear if America falls."

"I doubt greatly that you could find anything that would change my opinion."

"Fine then, think of this trip as a farewell tour, or at the very least a vacation from that colder-than-the-last-ring-of-hell Russia. And don't tell me you don't mind the cold. You always complain about the cold. Give me at least a month, and spend summer vacation- or whatever you commies do during the summer- over here." Alfred's smile had completely disappeared and he had an odd tone to his voice, one that Ivan couldn't place.

"Fine, Америка. One month, one chance Да?" Ivan had no idea why he just agreed to go on America's little trip. Usually he was not the one with impulse control issues, unless it came to him and his metal pipe.

"Of course, just give me a day or two to prepare. Because I am totally going to make you love America." Ivan sighed, knowing that America's own innuendo went right over his head.

A/N:

Translations:

Да: Yes

Я знал, что Америка и я должны были находиться на лучших сроках теперь, но это…

I knew that America and I were supposed to be on better terms now but this is…

Америкa: America

бедный Америка: Poor America

History Notes

1.) 'big stick' tactic- this doesn't have exactly the same literal meaning that I'm using it here for, but it basically means that America thinks it can solve all its problems by bombing everything. This, as we have found out, doesn't work on guerilla tactics.

2.) America has a long standing history of putting in unpopular governments- Syngman Rhee was the president of the South Korean government that the South Koreans didn't really like. The government in South Vietnam that America will set up will be REALLY unpopular with the Vietnamese as well.

3.) England, France… it didn't matter who Alfred looked up to, they all betrayed him.- England, American Revolution obviously, France's betrayal was with the XYZ Affair which led to a 'Naval Cold War' with France. For a time, we were actually considering going to war with them.

*If there is anything they said that you have a question about, just ask okay?

Actual Notes:

One, I'm using the assumption that America can speak most languages because he has so many immigrants but just prefers not to. Hence the reaction to the Russian early on. Main paring in this fic is IvanxAlfred, but I will have other couples like PruCan and FrUK. (Because I love those parings) I feel bad that I had so much of Russia's and America's bosses in this one, but I thought it was too important in setting up the conflict and scenarios. Forgive me. And it also bothers me that they were all boss like... oh well, I suppose it was okay-ish. Warning, this chapter was pretty benign, but later chapters will have yaoi, violence, severe sugary fluff and depending on how brave I am with my writing, smut. Possibly… actually, with the last one, probably not. I'm not nearly that brave. Please correct any mistakes I have made in my Russian, using an online translator. Be nice in your reviews please, this is my first fanfiction… (Although I know it's crap… lol.)


End file.
